


to the winner go the spoils

by DevilishKurumi



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fake Science
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 06:49:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevilishKurumi/pseuds/DevilishKurumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roxy Lalonde is the second best gamer this side of the wormhole, but she must severely underestimate your possessiveness over your own high scores if she thinks she can just waltz right in and beat you, Sollux Captor, permanent player one, at your own games.</p><p>Alternians-on-Earth AU that involves me bullshitting science and pretending that Star Trek is even remotely accurate to anything space-travel-related.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to the winner go the spoils

            Your name is Sollux Captor, and this arcade is practically your home.  You spend as much time here as possible, mostly in order to avoid having to deal with your lusus, and because you had to claw your way to the top ever since you moved to this city, you've sort of managed to turn it into one of the best hangout spots for trolls after school.  You've got quarters on every console and top scores in every game, and you like it that way.

            So when you wander in sometime in the late afternoon to find a strange human girl domming the everloving shit out of _Time Crisis_ , you're... a little irritated.  She's speed running the game, a stack of coins on the edge of the console like a warning.  You wander forward through the cabinets, down the aisle to the girl.  You can see the white cords of earbuds trailing down in front of her, plugged into her phone in her pocket, and she's not paying attention to anything around her.  You take the _Marvel Vs. Capcom_ cabinet near to her, keeping an eye on her as you play, waiting for her to come out of the zone long enough to interrupt her.

            It's not even that you think she's encroaching on your territory - well, okay, it is a little, but it's more that you need to keep an eye on the potential challenger on your horizon.  It's better to know ahead of time if you're going to have to crack down hard, or if you can ease your way into showing your general superiority.  It's _your_ home, after all.  You have to defend the frontlines.

            Even if defending the frontlines means you need to focus all of your attention on your game for a few minutes, instead of the weird human chick making a solid run at your high scores.  You have to continuously exercise your skills, after all.  By the time you're able to revert your focus back to the girl, though, she's gone, disappearing into the thick of the arcade predominately populated by trolls.  You'd think she'd stick out like a sore thumb.

            "Hey," comes a lengthy drawl from your right, and you jerk the joystick too hard and get punched in the face by Wolverine as a result.  "Wanna play together when you're done?" the girl asks, leaning her hip against the side of the console.

            "Whatever," you say, delivering a prompt and righteous asskicking to the NPC who tried to beat you.  She drops a few quarters into the second player slot when she has the opening to do so, dropping her messenger bag down beside her.  You glance at it, take in the overly troll Ed Hardy companion cube design on the flap, and say, "Nice bag."

            "Thanks."

            She picks Morrigan, which you're not surprised by in the fucking _least_ , and you decide that you're not going to go easy on her.  Not that you would've anyway.  Frontlines, defense for, etcetera.

            She schools you hard.  You're pretty sure you hate her.  Platonically, you mean.

            "Cool," she says, like it's no big deal.  You stare at Wolverine lying on the ground as Morrigan stands triumphantly over him.  You hate fighting games, and now you're pretty sure you hate this human girl too.

            "Two out of three," you say, and she grins and winks at you.  You purse your lips and try to keep psionic energy from crackling on your fingertips.  The last time you got too frustrated, you'd shorted out half the building, and you really don't want to do that right now.

            You narrowly avoid defeat a second time, and then you do let some of your energy go, shaking out your hand until the tingling sensation stops.  She's staring at your hand as you shake it.

            "What?" you snap.

            "You're sparking," she says.

            "Yeah?  So what?"

            She shrugs her shoulders and says, "I dunno, whatever, I just, like, haven't met a psionic before, it's pretty cool."

            "It's not _cool_ ," you growl, even though you've accepted that compliment a ton of times before.  It rubs you the wrong way that a girl who can beat the tar out of you in virtual fighting games is being... friendly and shit.  It's not good for the competitive spirit.  Also, you don't like her and you don't want her to be friendly with you.  You're starting to feel more than just encroached upon - you're starting to feel like you're not even a threat.

            "Uh, _yeah_ it is, like, _I_ don't have telekinetic powers, I don't know anyone else who _does_ , so _obviously_ -"

            "It's _not_.  Shut up and play."

            She frowns at you, but she doesn't say anything else as she takes a hold of her joystick.  You see her eyes dart towards you in the monitor's reflection, and then her eyebrow quirks and she immediately annihilates you.

            Shit.

            "Okay, fuck this, fighting games are fucking stupid anyway.  Who the fuck even are you, coming in here and-"

            "Beating the dorkiest troll this side of the wormhole?"

            You bristle and snarl, "It's not a _wormhole_ , it's-"

            "A quantum singularity temporarily opened to allow specially designed shuttles with 'trans-dimensional capabilities' cross-universal transport, which use static 'bubble' technology to cancel out otherwise catastrophic G-force pressure in order to ensure the survival of the passengers."  She tosses her head a little to move her bangs out of her face.  Her voice is a little slurred, now that you've heard her say more than three words, and she uses air quotes as much as she uses run-on sentences.  "Like I didn't grow up watching _Star Trek_ , they couldn't have made the explanations any simpler.  Also, my mom works on Alternia, _so_."

            She stares at you.  "Also, it's basically a wormhole."

            " _Star Trek_ was written for human wigglers to help them _try_ to comprehend the science behind our technology," you say, trying not to grind your teeth, "It doesn't make it _accurate_."

            "Whatever, man!  You're just sore about me schooling you so hard.  What?  Don't like bein' beaten by a _girl_?"

            The challenge is so implicit it's practically a neon sign reading "come at me, bro," so you narrow your eyes and don't fight the energy sparking through your body, even if the way she stares at your static-crackling glasses makes you kind of flustered.

            "Fine, let's try something else."

* * *

 

            She destroys you in _House of the Dead 4_ , _Chaos Field_ and every other shooting game you try.  You manage to one up her at _Crazy Taxi_ and _OutRun 2_ , and though your other racing wins come to you by narrow margins you still take them.  She laughs at you a couple of times and you have to sit there and take it, not up for the lengthy police procedures that go along with all out brawls (or the more serious threat of murder, which you might actually resort to if she doesn't stop giggling at the way you handle a gun controller or the way you switch gears through turns on racing simulators.  She plays on automatic!  What does she have to laugh at?).  You're starting to really hate her, and you're not exactly sure if it's platonic or not any more.

            You draw the line at musically relevant games - _Dance Dance Revolution_ included, even though you're fucking pro at that - so when she suggests _Samba de Amigo_ , you pick up your backpack and sling it over your shoulder.

            "No fucking way," you say, turning on your heel and storming for the exit.  You're irritated and a little bit upset at being so thoroughly usurped from your metaphorical throne, and all you want to do is go back home and program the most devastating virus you can before implanting it remotely to this punk ass bitch's computer.  You wonder if she'd realize what was happening.  She seems pretty on top of things, but you know that if there's one area you can't be beat in, it's computers.

            "Hey!"

            The girl catches up with you despite your long stride, and you glare at her sideways.

            " _What_?"

            "Don't be such a sore loser," she says, "I had a good time playin' with you, let's keep the good times going!"

            "Good times?" you ask, almost in disbelief.  Holy shit, does she not get it?  "This isn't a _good time_.  This is _war_."

            She stops walking as you continue on, the sliding door whooshing open when you get in range.

            "My name's Roxy!" she calls.  You don't deign to give her an answer, storming through the door and into the warm twilight.  Seriously, fuck this.

* * *

 

            Roxy is waiting for you when you show up after school again, leaning against one of the air hockey tables with a fanny pack that jingles with quarters when she taps it.  You staunchly refuse to acknowledge her presence, brushing by her on your way to the back alcove where all the retro games are.  You drop your backpack by _Pac-Man_ , which is conveniently the only single-player game in the immediate vicinity.

            You'd figured your tactic of ignoring the problem until it goes away would work, but before long Roxy's popping quarters into the _Donkey Kong_ cabinet next to yours, leaning over to glance at your screen before grinning and leaning back.

            "So, like," she starts, and you hate filler words like _um, like, so_.  "I asked around, do you just not like competition or something?  Is that why you were all flustered when I kicked your ass so soundly?"

            " _No_ ," you snap, "I just don't like _you_."

            "Wow," she says, and she sounds completely disbelieving.  She lets Mario die so she can lean on the cabinet and face you.  You refuse to give in once again, forcing yourself to stare at your game even though it's not as exciting as the more modern games in the main hall.  "Like, just because I can kick your ass at POV shooters and fighting games?"

            " _No_ ," you repeat.  You're really bad at ignoring people.

            "Okay, cool, because - you know, I'm actually good at real life shooting and punching.  So, y'know, those are really shitty games to play against me."

            "Whatever," you say.

            Roxy lifts a shoulder - not that you're watching her in the reflection of your screen or anything - and crosses her arms.  "So, aren't you gonna challenge me to something I'm bad at?  Like, this is war and all.  Your words and everything.  If it's, all... war-like, then shouldn't you be Sun Tzu'ing the fuck outta me?"

            "No," you say, "Because I'm not playing any stupid games with you.  Leave me alone."

            "Why _not_?" Roxy asks, her voice almost a whine.  Actually, no, her voice _is_ a whine, and it grates on your nerves.  So you give up on playing _Pac-Man_ in order to turn and fix her with a withering glare.  You can feel a tingling sensation running up your arms from your thumbs, and you know that you're going to need to walk this off soon if you don't want to accidentally blow someone up.

            But _first_ , you snarl, "Because you're not _welcome_ here, and I don't _want_ you here, and you're kind of a _grade-A bitch_ , coming in here and trying to fuck with my life, so I'm not going to play with you."

            She looks surprised.  Actually, kind of shocked.  She stares at you like she's never even seen a troll before.  "Oh," she says, and while you don't feel _bad_ about it, you -

            Shit, okay.  You feel a little bad.

            Her lips purse briefly, and then she shrugs.  "Okay," she continues, slowly, and you can see confusion written all across her face, along with... well, anxiety, you guess.  You don't know.  It doesn't look right on her, is all.  "Sorry, then, I guess?"

            "Whatever," you grind out, and you turn back to your game.  She stands there awkwardly as you forcibly ignore her, but within a minute she's disappeared into the arcade altogether.  You don't see her for the rest of the day - which is okay, honestly, because Karkat shows up with Aradia a little later on, and the two of them drag you out for non-arcade food.

            Aradia steps on your foot under the table when you tell them about the weirdo human who'd come in twice to mock you, while Karkat goes on an unsurprisingly long rant about how humans need to give trolls some fucking space once in a while, for fuck's sake.  They distract you enough afterwards that you sort of forget Roxy is even a person who exists until you stop by the arcade to pick up your backpack and see _RXY_ scrolling under your own _TA_ on _Guitar Hero_.

            That sure as hell wasn't there before you left.  You don't know what to do about it.

            You don't know what to do when you see _RXY_ starting to appear conspicuously across the entire arcade over the next week or two, popping up when you least expect it - sometimes, it appears between bathroom breaks, which is just fucking insane.  All you know is that seeing your scores trailed by the same person (sometimes right behind you, other times more surreptitiously, hidden in fourth or fifth place) makes you feel jittery and challenged.  In some ways, it even feels good - a challenge is hard for you to pass up, and it gets your blood pumping just thinking about the potential of having an actual opponent in the gaming scene - but mostly, you just feel sour and unhappy.

            The ones that hit you the worst, though, are the _RXY_ 's that appear on a lot of the retro gaming cabinets - _Dig Dug_ in particular, because her score is only a hundred less than yours.  You're pretty sure she did it on purpose, too.

            All you can hope for is that she'll keep tailing you instead of surpassing you, and that she'll only do it when you can't stop it.

* * *

 

            Roxy beats your score in _Marvel vs. Capcom_ and you're pretty sure you almost fry the entire game cabinet when you put your hands on the joystick just in time to see her name sitting triumphantly above yours.

            Twice.

            You go down the block to get some bubble tea, stalk back to the arcade, and then set about thoroughly trumping every high score you can get your hands on.  You are going to work Roxy off the tables, one game at a time.  You're positive of it.  You're actually kind of manic about it, to the point where other trolls in the arcade start to give you a wide berth.  You hear some of them mutter Roxy's name, but you force yourself not to pay attention.

            It's only when Karkat and Aradia crowd in around you that you have to take a step back - mostly because they sort of drag you away as soon as your latest game ends - and reassess the situation.

            "You should let it go," Aradia says, in a voice that tells you just how unlikely she thinks you'll do that.  She's right.  You aren't letting it go.

            "You should focus on more important things," Karkat adds, "Like, fucking... I don't know, what's important?"

            "There's the party," Aradia says, and _that_ snaps you out of mentally designing Roxy's elaborate downfall.  "Eridan actually invited us this time, without Feferi getting involved-"

            "She's still coming, right?" you ask, maybe too eagerly because Aradia gives you a _look_.  You can't help it.  You've been partially smitten with the heiress since you'd met; she's got a calming, peppy aura around her that just seems to melt your stress away - sometimes it makes you more manic, yeah, but most of the time you just feel relaxed around her.  You know she's already got her hands full pale-wise, handling Eridan's massive tantrums while singlehandedly preparing herself for her eventual duty as ruler of Alternia, but that hasn't stopped you from daydreaming a little about it.  She's a really good moirail, is all.

            "Yeah, far as I know," Karkat says with a shrug.  "Nobody's said otherwise."

            "Probably because no one'd show up if it was just _Eridan_ ," you reply.  It's no secret that Eridan's smart, cunning and powerful, but the guy's a total fucking jerk and a lot of the time you just want to psionically put him in a headlock and give him the most static-filled noogie this side of the wormhole.

            You did it once, just to see if you could.  You totally could.  He looked like one of those fluffy white cats rich humans keep as pets and screamed at you for about ten minutes before storming off to fix his hair.  Feferi had scolded you, but it hadn't been very sincere.

            Aradia buys you fries and another bubble tea when you get to the shitty hole-in-the-wall down the street, and Karkat lets you have the pickles off his burger.  They're plying you with food and you know it; neither of them enjoy dealing with you when all you can think about is destroying someone, but they'll put up with it anyway.  They're your friends, after all.

            "Saturday, right?" you ask, chomping on some fries and staring at your phone.  You keep a pretty detailed schedule on your calendar, even if it makes Strider and Karkat call you an OCD nutjob, but you've conveniently left every Saturday open for the foreseeable future.  (As well as most other days, to be honest, but you don't ever let anyone see your schedule so for all they know, you're busy as shit.)

            "Yes, Saturday," Karkat drawls, snaking one of your fries and chomping on it with the same idle maliciousness he contains for most mundane tasks.  You've seen him brush his teeth; it's pretty hardcore.  "When the fuck else would it be, seriously?  I know you don't even have anything scheduled for the next few _eons_ , asshole, don't act like you need to clear your schedule for a chance to see Feferi."

            "Shut up," you sigh, tucking your phone away.  "I actually _do_ have shit to do, you know.  Important shit."

            "Yeah, I fucking bet.  Let me see your phone, then."

            "No fucking way."

            "That's what I thought."

            Okay, so maybe you don't actually give off the air of someone with a lot to do, but damn it, you're trying.  That should count for something.

            Aradia brushes her foot against your calf and smiles at you; it's got an immediate calming effect that you're still not really used to.  It almost feels pale, but not quite.  Pale-platonic.  "I hope you'll come with us," she says, "It's better than you trying to destroy some girl's high scores."

            Oh, _shit_.  Roxy!

            "Shit!" you exclaim, standing abruptly and almost knocking over your fries before Karkat snatches them out of your way.  "She's probably already wiped me out, I wasn't even trying that hard - _shit_."

            "You had to bring _her_ up," you hear Karkat saying as you make a dash for the door, but Aradia's reply is cut off as the door swings shut behind you.

            Thankfully, Roxy doesn't seem to have come back to wage war; she's nowhere to be found in the entire arcade, and you spend the next few hours successfully usurping her from most of the racing games in the arcade, scrubbing her out of each game as though she's a health risk to everyone involved.


End file.
